by Terence A. Anthony
“Do you remember?” he asked as they walked around the ruins of a dilapidated building. Carson took Red’s hands and invited her to dance in a post-apocalyptic ball.
“Of course I do. The lights were flashy
as we danced in the dark” Red replied. Carson’s arms went around her waist as
he closes in to her. He observes the wrinkles all over her face. They were like
trenches, dug up signifying the wear and tear of the earth. Just like how the
building they were dancing in, never restored and now overgrown with vines.
Nature took over from there. Soon, nature will take over them too.
Carson then whispered into her
ears; “How about the flames, does it disturb you at all?” Both of them were
present when the club burnt down 20 years ago.
Some say if you stay long enough
in the ruins you could still hear the voices of the young couples screaming “fire!”
Carson and Red were few of the lucky ones who managed to escape that night. No
one except them knew they were there. The media never found them, the cops
never knocked on their doors and there barely was any record of them being
there.
But it was all etched, burnt into
their memories.
A perplexed Red asked “Of course,
why not? That never bothered you before, so why today? It wasn’t our first time
building a building.”
“Good.” Carson stabbed Red in her
abdomen making her scream in surprise, leaving her aghast.
Red was on her knees and her
white dress was stained by the blood coming out of her wounds, with the knife
sticking out. Carson turned around to chest he brought along. He stared at the
lighter and the lighter fluid in the chest.
Flash Fiction February is a daily short story challenge (within the 150-200 word range) for the month of February.
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